Scrapbook of Memories
by ninjakat405
Summary: England is looking through his old scrapbook of his time spent with little!America and remembers the time America separated from him. He might have been fine on his own, until the blonde shows up at his front door. Lemon. Human names used.


**A/N: **Whoo! My b-day is coming up in a few days so - as a special gift to you all - I give you a USxUK! First attempt at yoai. No flames por favor, or else I'll become horribly depressed and have no confidence left within me and won't write for a year or two. And this was actually hard for me, because I have morals (which my friends make fun of) so...yeah. I tried my best! Hope you like it. Enjoy the sentimental England.

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><p><em>"This is great, England!" Alfred exclaimed, nearly ripping the miniature castle from his caretaker's hands. He plopped to the floor where he stood and enthusiastically pawed through the furniture and wooden soldiers. "They all have different faces!"<em>

_ Arthur smiled down at the child country's enthusiasm. His blue eyes glowed with happiness and his round cheeks were flushed with excitement. It made his chest swell with pride and his limbs numb with warmth from knowing that he was doing a good job raising the chap. He didn't even feel the throbbing of his broken hand as much. _

_ "I made each have a different expression and personality. It was difficult, but I knew you'd like it."_

_ "It's so cool!"_

_ Arthur laughed, but it was cut short when Alfred jumped to his feet and wrapped his small, thin arms around Arthur's legs._

_ "Thanks so much, England."_

_ He patted the smaller nation's blonde head. "I'm glad you think so, America."_

Arthur swallowed the lump forming in his throat as his finger skimmed across the fabric of the toy soldier's uniform. Only a thin sheet of plastic prevented him from feeling the soft cloth that had brought on the memories. He shook off the nostalgia and turned the page. Surrounded by a few faded pictures was a black bow tie…

_ Alfred peered at himself through the mirror. He guessed the suit_ _looked all right, since Arthur's taste in clothing wasn't as horrible as his cooking. But still._

_ "It's kind of stiff, you know?"_

_ "That's because you haven't worn if enough", the other nation chastised. _

_ "Well, isn't it a bit too…much for everyday clothing?"_

_ "I don't like the way you're dressing-"_

_ "That's because you're getting old."_

_ Arthur scoffed. "I don't want to be seen associating with someone that looks like a commoner."_

_ "But they're comfy!"_

_ "Comfy or not, those rags you call clothes make me look bad."_

_ Alfred shot a glance at his older brother and mumbled something about him being too old-fashion and boring. _

_ "I guess just on special occasions…" he conceded with a reluctant sigh._

Arthur frowned as he let the strings of the bow tie slide through his fingers. Those were the days when Alfred started to become restless, more resistant to his rules and laws. More argue mental with him about almost everything. When the rift appeared and they started to grow apart.

He cleared his throat and glared at the ceiling as if the starring contest could diffuse the building frustration in the pit of his stomach. And his heart. Or maybe the cause was to stop the trickle of tears that threatened to spill.

Arthur flipped through a few more pages, his face lighting up or his eyebrows knitting together as he saw and remembered both good and bad memories of the past. There the was the leg of Alfred's stuffed bunny he had given him when he was ten after he had found out that a rabbit's foot could be lucky; a part of the tent that had been ripped apart when thirteen-year-old Alfred thought Arthur was a bear when he coming back from the loo while camping; a card Arthur had gotten for his birthday before Alfred left…

He quickly passed over the bayonet of his Revolutionary gun. Those memories were much too hard to bear again.

His heart stopped when he flipped to the last page. He rubbed the plastic covering between his thumb and forefinger nervously and bit his lower lip as his green eyes landed on the ticket in the middle of the otherwise blank page. The ticket that proved Alfred would be sailing to America. The ticket that finalized the break between them. The break in Arthur's heart.

_ALFRED! You are _not _going on that boat!" _

_ "And who's going to stop me?" Alfred snorted. "You're army sure couldn't."_

_ Arthur flinched._

_ "I'm tired of all these rules you keep putting one me to keep me with you! My people are _suffering _because of you! You're too controlling and demanding! I can't keep up with all of it. I'm sick of it!" He turned away, but Arthur's hand grabbed his wrist._

_ "Please…America." Arthur tried to keep the plea out of his voice, the helplessness from his eyes. But how could he, when the one he loved was leaving him? He needed his younger brother. He had taken care of him since he was just a tot, no taller than his knees! How could he just walk out of his house-leave him-like this? Didn't he know how much he still needed to learn? How much he still needed Arthur?_

_ "Let go of me", Alfred said darkly, and yanked his hand away. "You had your chance. I told you step back or I'd leave."_

_ The blonde walked away and stepped onto the ship._

_ Arthur watched him go, his heart shattering and his face streaked with tears._

_ "Alfred…America…"_

"America…"

Arthur found moist drops on the sheet and wiped his eyes. His hand came back wet.

"Alfred…. that bloody git."

He closed the scrapbook and felt the flow of tears increase. _Even now that bastard can tear me apart._

Slowly, he forced the tears back and shook off the last of the memory. He was just about to make himself a cup of tea to calm his nerves when there came a knock at the door. Arthur felt enough like himself to scowl.

_Who in their right mind would come at a time like this?_

He opened the door slowly-

"Yo, Arthur!" Alfred shouted.

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><p>Arthur glared at the unwelcome guest from across the living room. He sat in a chair with a teacup clutched to his chest while Alfred sprawled on the couch opposite him, holding a cup of coffee.<p>

_When did I even get coffee in the house? _ Arthur thought as he tried to drill holes in his former charger's head with his eyes. _I can't believe I had that disgusting rubbish in my cupboard. Stupid bloke must have stashed it away somewhere._

Said bloke fidgeted nervously under the glare as the older nation continued his inner musings.

"Um, you okay, dude?"

"No."

"Oh…" Alfred looked dejectedly into his mug.

"I'm not a 'dude' either, git."

"Old man?"

"Arthur."

"Iggy?"

"Ar-thur."

"Artie-"

"_Alfred!_"

Alfred grinned at the outburst, secretly glad that the stingy old Englishman was still with him. Arthur just groaned and rubbed his temples.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?"

His smile sobered and he stared into his cup again as he carefully picked his words. It made Arthur uncomfortable.

"I don't know…you just, haven't been calling lately…and whenever I do see you, you're always upset or angry at me."

"So you thought that showing you face-which usually causes the problem-would help in some weird?"

The blonde's eyes flashed with hurt. "Well…yeah."

Arthur felt hot tears burn at the back of his eyes again. "God, Alfred! You're so…so…insufferable!"

Alfred jumped up from the couch and knelt down in front of the older man's seat. "Arthur, what's up? What's wrong?"

The older nation looked up. His blue eyes were clear and worried, his face showing no hint of his former carelessness and humor, but Arthur could see the boy that left him.

"You! You, you bloody wanker! Y-"

Whatever Arthur was about to choke out was stopped when Alfred's mouth suddenly covered his. Arthur flailed until Alfred wrapped his arms around his waist and pushed him further into the cushions. His tongue gently coaxed Arthur's into a fight in their moist cavern. The green-eyed nation, after figuring out that Alfred wasn't going to move away, put all of him emotion into the kiss. Alfred planted lighter kisses on each of his tears and Arthur felt his face flush.

"A-Alfred-"

"C'mon Arthur. I know what'll cheer you up."

"W-what?"

Alfred took him by the hand and led him down the hall to-Arthur's eyes widened and his face and neck burned. He glanced up at Alfred, hoping he wasn't thinking what Arthur thought he was. Alfred gave him a soft smile, but his eyes were still bright with concern as they entered the bedroom. Alfred lowered the older man onto the bed.

"A-Alfred, I don't think this is nes-" His words were cut off by another kiss, one much less comforting and greedier as the tongue plundered his mouth and started to suck on a spot behind his ear.

"Aw, baby, you know he like it."

Arthur slapped him.

"What?"

The infuriating smile was still on his face, along with a red handprint. Arthur crossed is arms and huffed, all depressing memories of them together gone in an instant. "Just because we've…we've…"

"Fucked? Got busy, done it, messed around-." The glare Alfred received as he listed several suggestions shut him up. He didn't want to be hit again, Arthur's pout cute or not.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, 'done it' as you bloody Americans like to shout around, doesn't mean you can just say whatever you want to me."

Alfred smirked and he felt blood pool in his neither regions.

"What about doing whatever I want to you? Big Ben agrees."

Arthur's retort turned into a sharp intake of breath when the younger nation started laying a line of love bites down one side of his neck. His shivers as Alfred slowly unbuttoned his shirt and played with the unmarred skin with his mouth were the exact opposite of the scowl in his mind.

_Damn imbecile first makes me cry like an old woman, and then frustrates me and now this? He sure knows how to get under someone's bloody skin. _At least he could see the ever-growing bulge on the other's pants.

All thought was made impossible when Alfred finally reached Arthur's belt. Somehow the blonde's shirt was already off and his own belt was lying on the floor. He quickly snapped Arthur's off and shimmed the pants off without lifting the older man' s legs. The smoldering, hungry look Alfred gave his erection only made him-to his distain-harder.

Alfred took him in his mouth. Arthur muttered a curse as waves of raw pleasure shot up his spine. He clenched his jaw and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, determined not to let this teen who ripped his heart out and then had the nerves to show his bloody face around him hear his cries of pleasure. He hadn't even asked for this in the first place!

But despite forcing his mind to bring up all the horrible memories brought on by the scrapbook, and despite his pure determination and aggravation at his former charge, he couldn't help the way his back arched when Alfred ran his tongue along his length, or the way his body betrayed him by bucking his hips when Alfred started pumping at its base. He was in a haze of pleasure and hate and love and hurt, that, when he came, he screamed Alfred's name as tears ran down his face.

He felt cool lips press on his flushed face and a hand run through his already tousled hair.

"Come on, this is supposed to be fun", he heard Alfred say. Arthur could have had another reason to hate the kid for saying that about something that was supposed to be special, if he hadn't said it with such comfort and concern.

"I-it's all your fault", Arthur said, breath hitching as the last of his orgasm shuttered through him. "Y-you….you left me…a-and then you came here! And did this?"

There was a pause and Arthur could practically see the smile on Alfred's face from under his closed lids.

"You brought out the scrapbook again, didn't you?"

Blood pooled in his stomach again, this time in embarrassment.

He rolled over, pushing Alfred off and leaned over him on his hands and knees. The younger just watched him with mild amusement as he positioned his limp organ in front of Alfred's opening. He stroked his length to bring it back to life.

"Aren't scrapbooks for, like, old women with a bazillion great grandchildren" Alfred continued. His leg twitched with impatience as his need for Arthur grew with each second that Arthur's face hardened with anger. "Or as boring Christmas presents for people you don't l-" his words ended in a painful cry as Arthur entered him without preparation.

Arthur smirked at Alfred's pained face. He shifted his weight and thrusted.

Alfred's cry turned into a moan as the discomfort was overwhelmed with pleasure. All he could do was feel Arthur. Arthur's weight on top of him. Arthur inside of him. Arthur's hands running up and down his hips and eventually digging into his scalp.

The old man was convinced that Alfred hated him. He didn't hate him, he just needed more space, less restrictions ad didn't need someone to hold his hand and guide through life anymore. He didn't hate the Britain. He loved him (not that he would admit it to his face. It was much too fun to tease him). He just didn't always like the way he did things.

Arthur's movements had become harder and faster. He threw his head back and moaned despite his will and thrusted one last time before filling Alfred.

Alfred came moments later as Arthur shuddered inside of him. They both collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard.

"You know, old women don't move as good as you do", Alfred said between peppering kisses on Arthur's neck.

The older country snorted. "You've slept with older women?"

There was a pause.

"I can't find anyone as old as you, and China already said no."

Arthur whacked him with a pillow. "Twat."

Alfred laughed and pulled him against his chest.

"I love you too."

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><p><strong>AN: **Not as bad as I thought, right? Anywho, if I get enough reviews, I'll try and do a AustriaxHungary. And I have a coolios idea for them. Bis bald!


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